A Promise Kept
by E.A. Cooper
Summary: Hardison shows up unexpectedly at Parker's doorstop, shirtless, covered in blood. future!Fic. Parker/Hardison.


**Title:** A Promise Kept  
**Author:** **emily64cooper****  
Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairing:** Parker/Hardison  
**Summary:** Hardison shows up unexpectedly at Parker's doorstop, shirtless, covered in blood.  
**Prompt: **07: Prove it.

* * *

You're at my door, blood splattered everywhere.

Across your clothes. Your face. Your bare chest.

Specks drop across my pretty carpet as you collapse. You're shivering, and I should know what that means, but I can't tell. My head's all fuzzy, filled with only one thing: you.

"We need to..." do something. What? We need to... Why can't I think?

You're coughing now, more blood on my carpet. My mind says something about a lung, but the thought's too far away to understand.

You mumble something incoherent. An "H" word. H? Hospital! Shit, we need to get you to a hospital.

"Hospital. Hardison, I'm gonna get you to a hospital. Okay, baby?" The pet-name slips out, never before said, but innately right.

"Ids," you say softly. You begin to reach for your pocket, but the shaking starts again, and now you're hissing and my fingers fly across the keys of the cell phone faster than they've ever moved before. I lift the ids from your pocket, a married couple, Marcus and Hanna Finkle, and idly think that you don't look like a Marcus.

You cough again, louder this time, and spew bright red, frothy blood. This isn't a good sign. But I can't remember why, and it frustrates the hell out of me.

"Punctured lung," you say, forcing me to realize I've been speaking out loud this whole time.

"Can they fix it?" I ask. What I hear isn't my voice. It's small and meek and scared and shaking, a shell of what I know it to be.

"Hey, look at me," you say, so I do. You look worse than when you showed up at my doorstep. Your head's in my lap, and I don't remember it getting there, but I certainly don't mind it.

"I'll be fine," you say, struggling for breath.

I don't believe you for a second, so ask you to "prove it" all the while wondering where the damn paramedics are and why they haven't gotten here faster.

You fumble in your pocket for a second, fighting wave after wave of pain, before pulling out a set of diamond earrings on a 42 karat gold chain, all items tarnished. You put them in my hand and close my fist around them.

"It was my mother's-cough-my real mother's. Hold on to it for me?"

"Hardison, I can't-"

"You can and you will. I want it back though, when I get better. And I promise you, girl, I will get better. I don't break my promises. Never have, never will."

I nod and slip the chain around my neck.

"The uh, um, paramedics, they're gonna be here any minute now. So you just stay here, okay, living, preferably."

You smirk and I want to slap you. This isn't funny. This isn't a con where you're just gonna get up and walk away. This is real, and the blood's soaked my carpet and my hands and my pants. It's always gonna be here, and I'm always gonna see what happened here.

"Hey, uh, sorry 'bout your uh, carpet. Blood stains; they're a bitch gettin' out."

It's like you've read my mind, which you do a lot lately, and it kinda creeps me out.

Your eyelids start to flutter and your pulse goes weak, and I immediately know you're slipping in and out of consciousness. I try 911 again when I start to hear the sirens.

"Parker," you mumble, so softly I'm surprised I heard it.

"This might not be the best time..."

By now, I can hear the doctors on the stairs, on the bottom floor, two stories below. You're completely unconscious, a fact that my emotions wrestle with. I don't know whether to be thankful you're in no more pain, nervous, or scared shitless. I settle between the three as I hear you mumble again.

"Love you, girl."

The doctors have finally arrived and they slide you out of my lap, but my hand stays firmly attached to yours, and I lean down to press a swift kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too," I whisper, the first time I admit it to more then a plant.

In your sleep you smile, and something tells me as I sit in the blaring van next to you, our hands still firmly attached, that you'll be just fine. After all, you did say you've never broken a promise.

And you'd better not start now.

* * *

**A/N:** Those who review get hugsies! Virtual hugsies! And, should they want, the chance to discuss, with me, the latest episode (2x08 - The Ice Man Job) of our dear Leverage. Hooray for you reviewers!


End file.
